So much for the cavalry riding to the rescue. "Let's say I'm interested. What do I get out of this?"

Agent Granato scowled. "You get a chance to serve your country in a time of crisis. Isn't that enough, Riley?"

"Serving my country and serving my government-or part of it-isn't necessarily the same thing."

"I understand, Ms. Riley," Lowell said. "Uncle Sam's reputation isn't what it used to be."

I shrugged. "Everyone's got a crazy uncle in the family."

"Understand this, though. The government isn't some monolithic entity that speaks with one voice and acts with one hand. It's just people-people with different ideas, making difficult decisions that have pretty serious consequences. They need good information, good advice. It's our job to give it to them, and you can help with that. If they don't get it, bad decisions get made and really bad things happen."

I remembered what Rashan had told me, and an image of a mushroom cloud over Los Angeles sprung into my head.

"And of course," said Lowell, "we could ensure that your business operations are not a priority for the federal government."

"Done," I said. "But I'm not going to start voting Republican."

Agent Lowell laughed. "That won't be necessary, Ms. Riley. For now, we'd just like to know how this thing is going to go. Can you contain this MIE?"

"I don't know. But I'm about to find out."

When I got back to my condo, I pulled up a chair at the kitchen table. The tiny sidhe warriors were sitting at the edge of the lagoon. One of them was nibbling on a fruit, and the other seemed to be napping.

"Hey guys," I said.

"What do you want?" asked the one with the fruit. His voice sounded like one of the Chipmunks. The other opened an eye and looked at me.

"I want to arrange a sit-down with your boss. Thought y'all might be able to help me with that."

"A sit-down?"

"Yeah, you know, a parley. Negotiations."

Sleepy sat upright. "You would have to free us from this prison," he said. "We cannot contact our king from this place."

"I could do that," I said, "if you delivered the message for me. Just one of you, though. The other one has to stay in the nest."

Sleepy nodded and Fruity scowled. I had a pretty good idea who was staying. "I am Queen Titania's nephew, and I have rank," Sleepy said. "I will be your messenger."

I let the threads binding the elf to the nest unravel, and Sleepy appeared before me in the kitchen. He bowed. "On my honor, my lady, I will return when I have delivered your message to my king."

"Yeah, okay, sounds good. See you later."

The sidhe warrior strode proudly into my living room, stepped through the gate and was gone.

We met in the Between, at Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills. Churches are neutral ground in the underworld, just like in Highlander. Whether in the physical world or the Between, you can't tap any juice in a consecrated place. Really, it works just like our thing. Churches are juice boxes-powerful ones-but someone else's lips are on the straw. I'd been angling for a Catholic church, but the sidhe insisted on something non-Christian. Something about old grudges.

The king's entourage stood in orderly ranks around the outside of the building. I had my big hitters with me, and I left them outside, too, when I went into the temple.

King Oberon was sitting alone in a pew toward the front. He stood as I approached and we shook hands. He looked absurdly young, maybe twenty, tops. Straight, luxurious auburn hair cascaded down his back, nearly to his waist, and his skin looked like it had been lovingly crafted from flawless porcelain. His body was slender and perfectly proportioned, and he was wearing an exquisite bespoke suit the color of pearls. He was the kind of beautiful boy that would be really popular in prison.

"Ms. Riley, thank you for arranging this meeting. I am honored." He smiled, and his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. It made you want to love him. It made you want to worship him. It made me want to punch him in the mouth.

"Thank you, uh, Your Highness. I wasn't sure you'd agree. It seems like this might have been worth a shot before you took the assassination angle." Oberon smiled and nodded, and we sat down.

"In hindsight, it was a bit of a miscalculation. I admit it. But you must remember, Ms. Riley, when I set this plan in motion, you were just a tomboy using your magic to steal cigarettes at the convenience store."

"What's that got to do with anything? You could have had a sit-down with Rashan. Instead, you decided to kill him and take his place."

"I had reason, based on long experience, to believe that I could not have reached an amicable agreement with Shanar Rashan."

"Why's that?"

"Pride, Ms. Riley. We both have far too much of it."

Was that supposed to mean I didn't have any of it myself? I decided to let it pass. "I'm not real happy about what you did, but I guess I wouldn't have asked you to sit down with me if I couldn't get over it."

"Indeed. So where do we go from here?"

"I understand you want in, and I can live with that. But I can't give you my outfit's territory."

"Certainly-I do not expect you to. Papa Danwe's territory will suffice, for now. I will eventually need more, but I will agree, by treaty, to refrain from further attacks on your organization."

I shook my head. "I can't give you Papa Danwe's territory, either. It's Terrence Cole's territory now-his outfit, what's left of it. Terrence is a friend of ours." I shrugged. "I owe, King. Anyway, that's the same deal you gave Papa Danwe, and I killed him for it. I don't think it would look very good if I agreed to it myself."

King Oberon sighed, and his shoulders slumped. "That is unfortunate. Perhaps one or more of the other outfits in the city, then? I have quite a lot invested in South Central already, you understand, but I am not unreasonable."

"Thing is, King, I think we're going to need the other outfits for what's coming. No offense, but you're not the worst of it."

"Indeed I am not, Ms. Riley. It seems we have reached an impasse, and for that I am deeply regretful."

"What do you think of Hollywood?"

King Oberon arched an eyebrow. Then he smiled and broke out the light show again. "Oh, Ms. Riley, I think that would do very well."

"Yeah. The way I see it, all the outfits nibble at the edges, but none of us control it. We'd all like to, but we've always balanced each other out. Hollywood is low-hanging fruit, Your Majesty. And it's got a lot of juice."

"So what is your proposal, in detail?"

"I build you gates in Hollywood. I convince all the outfits in the city to play along. You get the juice you need and start rebuilding Arcadia, in Tinseltown."

"And you, Ms. Riley. What do you get?"

"I get an alliance with the Seelie Court. You and your people line up with me in the war that's coming."

King Oberon nodded. "We would likely have done that anyway, Ms. Riley." He looked at me, and a deadly serious expression hardened his face. "Whatever you may think of me, of us, understand one thing. We love your world. We even love humans, though it is, perhaps, not always the kind of affection mortals can appreciate. We are not monsters, Ms. Riley. We will fight for this place. We will fight, with you."

"That's good enough for me, King. There's just one more thing. Honey gets a full pardon. And her family."

"The piskie betrayed me," the king said, frowning. "Surely, in your position, you know how damaging that can be."

"I know. You have to protect your authority in order to run your crew. But the way I see it, you're a great king. You're strong enough to show mercy."

Oberon laughed. "There is nothing quite as charming as flattery from a beautiful woman, Ms. Riley."